


Move on in and Make [Room for] Love

by TheLadysBlush (BlushingNewb)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Moving In Together, Romance, Space Husbands, Telepathy, sweet lovin' every chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 05:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11525409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushingNewb/pseuds/TheLadysBlush
Summary: A recently bonded Jim and Spock begin sharing quarters on a full-time basis. Fills a charming prompt by SoldierGirl called “Shackin’ Up.”





	1. Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> SoldierGirl's full prompt is at the Kirk/Spock Fanfiction Archive: http://www.ksarchive.com/modules/challenges/challenges.php?chalid=580
> 
> I’ve purposefully tagged this story as AOS and TOS because there are no universe-specific details that will detract from the narrative. As I was writing it, I kept both sets of characters in mind and I feel that there are some things that may be common to Spocks and Kirks in almost any universe.

The refit of the Enterprise coincided quite conveniently with the full establishment of Spock and Jim’s wedding bond. After many years of dancing around one another and gradually falling into a synchronous orbit, they had at last joined together in both the Vulcan and Terran traditions; a marriage of true minds.

When the two first became lovers they had gone to each other’s quarters through their shared bathroom, shyly knocking to seek entry for a potential mission of intimacy. It wasn’t long before they simply left the sets of inner doors between their quarters open, closing them only for personal privacy. Most regrettably, their beds had been too small to allow for more than one person at a time, which led to a number of post-coital occurrences in which the men shoved mattresses to the floor and made a rough pallet out of blankets and pillows rather than separating for the remainder of the night. Jim had been engaged in the laborious process of requisitioning a larger mattress from Starfleet but this pursuit was interrupted by a tense skirmish with the Klingons. It was an absolute necessity that the _Enterprise_ to undergo extensive repairs, and though Jim mourned over his silver lady’s jagged wounds, the two men were able to relish Spock’s pon farr with a leisure they had not anticipated.

When the couple returned to the restored _Enterprise_ , it was to find that their quarters had been adjusted to Scotty’s exacting specifications. A very wise man, Scotty, as well as efficient - he had maintained the separation of the two main spaces by the bathroom, but had retooled the compartments of each man’s previous quarters so that one room served as a dual workspace and the other housed a bed large enough for two grown men.

It would be the first time that the couple would live together in such a small space. The comfortable hotels and isolated cabins they had vacationed in had allowed them much more room than they would be allotted on the _Enterprise_. But they were far too overjoyed (though Spock would never admit to the emotion) at their return to the stars to entertain any negative thoughts about their living conditions. As they embarked on the next stage of their voyage, Jim and Spock were confident that as a combined force they could handle anything the universe threw at them, and that included sharing a small living space.

* * *

It was after beta shift when Spock made it back to their quarters. The experienced helmsman typically in charge during the ship’s second shift was under Dr. McCoy’s care after experiencing an allergic reaction to some Altarian kelp chips, and Jim had taken Spock off of alpha shift so that he could supervise the junior bridge officers on beta.

At this time in the evening his bondmate would usually be sitting at his desk with his feet propped up and a padd clasped in his hands. Spock thought fondly of Jim’s favorite leisure activities, which consisted of reading classic literature, compiling a list of planets that might present good opportunities for camping, and sometimes, playing Terran history-based strategy games. These games puzzled Spock at first - he did not understand the desire to recreate a historical setting for recreational purposes - until he realized that the ability to alter these pre-established events gave Jim an unrestrained setting for practicing his more outlandish tactics. Build an ancient Irish fighting force capable of invading continental Europe? Of course. Create a Mayan empire that could cross the Atlantic and make a vassal of medieval Spain? All in a leisurely evening’s work for a starship captain in a playful mood.

A muffled rustling came from the bathroom where the door was closed and Spock realized that Jim was making use of the facilities. He crossed over to his own desk and turned his console on, where he began reviewing his notes from earlier in the day.

About twenty minutes later it occurred to Spock that Jim was still in the bathroom. A wrinkle appeared in his brow (one which he would never have allowed to appear outside of their quarters) and Spock slowly approached the door.

“Jim?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Are you quite well?” Spock asked.

“Yep,” Jim replied curtly.

“I ask,” Spock said, “because you do not remain on the commode for more than 7.4 minutes once per day, if that.”

A deep sigh came from behind the door. “Spock, are you actually aware of how much time I spend sitting on the toilet? Please tell me you don’t do that intentionally.”

“As you know, I am observant by nature. It is logical for me to make inquiries of your condition when you deviate from what is characteristic of your bodily norms.”

“Look,” Jim said, “can we maybe talk about this later? When I’m actually, you know, out of the head?”

“If you insist,” Spock replied. “Though...are you sure I should not notify Dr. McCoy?”

“What? No!” spluttered Jim. “Why on earth would you need to do that?”

“It is a matter of your physical health.” Surely Jim could see the logic in it, Spock thought.

“Spock. I...I’m fine.” Jim paused for a moment. “Okay, just...I’ll be out in a min- no, about ten minutes, after I take a shower. Then you’ll have all the explanation you need. Don’t you dare comm Bones, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“As you wish,” Spock said, raising a single eyebrow.

* * *

Jim emerged from the bathroom 8.7 minutes later with a towel wrapped around his smooth waist, a smaller one draped around his neck, and a padd held closely by one hand to his thigh, almost as if he were trying to hide it. It was this last detail that was most perplexing to Spock.

“Are you alright?” Spock inquired. Jim’s body language was giving him some cause for concern; he seemed embarrassed and unwilling to look at Spock.

Jim plopped into his chair and carelessly cast the padd aside. Sighing gustily, he turned to Spock.

“So, do you ever get bored in the bathroom? You know, when you’re...going?”

“I’m not sure to what you are referring,” Spock said, crooking his head to the left. “I do not believe I have personally experienced boredom, per se.”

“Well, what do you do when you’re just sitting around and haven’t got anything to do, or think of?”

Spock considered Jim’s question. He always had something to think of -- there was never a surfeit of philosophical circumstances to ponder over, and he enjoyed creating hypotheses about certain natural phenomena to see if they could be replicated in a lab setting. If he was alone in their quarters he could entertain carnal thoughts about Jim for an extended period of time. But turning his mind to the more immediate part of Jim’s query, he realized that his answer was that he had always found some way to engage his mind, even while eliminating. He told Jim as much, and to his surprise, he chuckled.

“Should’ve known you’d be able to entertain yourself during anything,” Jim said, smiling.

Spock interrupted, “I was not aware that the concluding activity of the digestive process presented an opportune time for ‘entertainment.’”

Now Jim was howling with laughter, which secretly pleased Spock. He suspected that Jim was well aware that some of his “misunderstandings” were purposefully crafted to amuse him.

“Alright, I get it. But seriously, humans, at least most humans, don’t have perfect recall. Whereas you’re probably able to sit there and recite Vulcan poetry in your head, I’m mentally climbing the walls. So I bring one of my padds or a book in with me sometimes so I can read.”

“But Jim,” Spock pointed out, still somewhat unsettled. “Do you often need…a longer amount of time?”

Jim put his head in his hands.

“No, I don’t actually _need_ all that time,” he mumbled. Uncovering his face, he continued. “It’s just that, well, you know how I get caught up in novels sometimes. I’m finishing one chapter and then go on to the next one, and before I know it, it’s been thirty minutes or so. It’s not like I do it all the time.”

Spock placed his fingers under his chin. While it was somewhat unhealthy for a person to remain in that particular seated position on a recurrent basis, Jim seemed to indulge in this behavior only on rare occasions. It was not something he himself would do, and though he found it very odd, it was not a cause for concern.

“I admit that while I do not fully understand this particular activity, having no similar need, I acknowledge its harmlessness and will not comment upon it in the future.”

“You silly Vulcan,” Jim smiled fondly. “You were kind of worried there, weren’t you?” he asked, holding out two of his fingers to Spock.

“Worry is an emotion and as a Vulcan I do not experience it,” Spock replied placidly, reaching out with his own two fingers to rub them against Jim’s.

* * *

“And that’s you checkmated in two moves, Mr. Spock,” Jim said smugly. Spock had been in fine form tonight, and Jim had been driven near to distraction when his bondmate had removed his boots and socks. Spock almost never wandered about in their quarters with parts of his uniform missing and Jim half-suspected that he had done it on purpose to put him off his game. All Jim had been able to think about for some time had been the way those toes curled against his own while they were spooning, with Spock leisurely thrusting into him from behind. Jim had stared at the board with hot cheeks for several minutes before managing to climb out of his dirty mind. Slowly but surely, though, he had been captivated by the challenge of battling wits with his beloved and had returned his attention to the board.

“I concede the game to you, Captain,” Spock said, and Jim felt his heart speed up a bit. When Spock addressed Jim by his title in the private space of their quarters it was almost always a signifier of physical intimacy to come.

“Well, then…” Jim said, lowering his voice, “what shall we do for the remainder of our evening?”

Spock stood up from their small table and walked away as Jim began removing the chess pieces to store. Jim was arranging the kings in the case and then reached for a knight-

_Snap-ap!_

Startled, Jim jerked his head around their quarters to look for the source of the unsettling noise-

_Pop-sn-pa-ack!_

Jim dropped the knight onto the table and it caused several other pieces to scatter. When he turned around, he saw Spock reaching up to the ceiling with both hands.

_Knop-op-tick!_

As Jim watched, Spock's shoulder blades rose up under his tunic and fell back to a resting position. Jim could have sworn he heard the small gust of a sigh come from Spock’s mouth, and he felt blood rush downward from his stomach to his groin. Those sighs...they were the same as when-

_T-cluh-pop!_

Spock’s arms were bent in front of him now, his elbows down and hands pointing upwards. Jim, his mouth hanging open, had completely forgotten about the rooks, bishops and pawns, and they rolled off the table. Spock turned around to investigate the source of the clatter and raised an eyebrow quizzically at Jim.

“Is that _you_ doing all that?” Jim asked with incredulity.

“To what ‘all that’ do you refer?”

“All that loud popping! Are you popping your joints, Spock?”

Spock crooked his head. “Negative. Joints do not ‘pop;’ such a word implies an explosion of some kind. All parts of my body remain intact.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, not what I meant. When humans do that sort of stretching, we call that moving and cracking ‘popping your joints.’ I’ve never heard anyone do it so loudly, though!”

Anyone else might not have noticed the brief change in Spock’s expression, but Jim did - it was the sudden stillness that gave him away. Spock would deny it until his dying day, but to Jim that look meant that Spock had been wounded by words. Jim changed his tone immediately, never having intended to criticize.

“Baby, that’s not bad,” Jim said. “I was just surprised. I didn’t mean that there was anything wrong with it.”

“I never assumed that you did,” Spock answered quickly. _Mm-hmm_ , thought Jim.

“It’s fine, _kan-bu_ ,” he said, trying to reassure his husband. Jim knew through their bond that Spock loved the pet names in spite of his efforts to hide it. “Besides, it feels really good when you pop your joints.” Jim said, grinning broadly at Spock and cracking the knuckles of his right hand loudly.

“Indeed,” said Spock, his eyes crinkling ever-so-slightly. He held his own fingers in front of him and lowered his eyelids. Slowly, he used his right thumb and first finger to bend the tip of the forefinger on his left hand, working each joint one at a time until he reached his palm. Then he went on to his middle finger, repeating the process with the same precision.

Each slight movement resulted in a loud popping sound, but Jim had rapidly become distracted by the sight of Spock manipulating his own fingers and forgotten all about the noise.

 _{god, your beautiful hands}_ Jim thought, clumsily lowering his mental shield and forcing out the unspoken words. As their telepathic bond grew they had started practicing the transmission of thoughts over short distances.

_{love those fingers all over me}_

Spock’s eyes flew open and he stared at Jim, his hands frozen in place. So at least some of his words were getting through, Jim realized. How strongly was he broadcasting his lust?

_{touch them, baby, rub them, please I want to see}_

_[Then watch me, ashayam.]_

Holy fuck, Jim had heard _t_ _hat_ for sure, just as if Spock had whispered it directly into his ear, and his cock plumped up to press against the placket of his pants. The corners of Spock’s mouth turned up just slightly, and he spread the fingers of his right hand into a _ta’al_. Jim groaned and he gripped the edge of the table - he knew all too well what the salute could mean when it was exchanged between lovers in a private setting.

Jim breathed rapidly as Spock turned the ring finger, pinky and thumb on his left hand inwards to form the _ozh’esta_ , and he let out an involuntary whimper when Spock ran those two fingers alongside the thumb curve formed by the _ta’al_ on his other hand. Jim watched as Spock slowly caressed the outside and then the inside of that elegant V-shape. Inside, up, and then down. Over and back. Slow, then fast. Spock turned his hand with the _ta’al_ on its side, formed the fingers of his left hand into _another_ _ta’al_ and began the process of slotting them together like puzzle pieces.

Without another thought Jim raced over and intercepted Spock’s hands with his own, sliding his fingers against Spock’s. His bondmate’s hips jerked up and he let out one of the soft murmurs that drove Jim wild, and with his other hand Jim pulled Spock to him so that their groins lined up. He rutted eagerly against Spock, and as the rolling of his hips grew more rapid, Jim gentled the movement of his fingers on Spock’s, and they put the palms of their hands together to form perfect mirror salutes. They gasped into each other’s mouths, and Jim cried out as his pants were unzipped and cool air met his needy cock. He groaned and thrust himself into naked space for what felt like far too long until he was finally joined by Spock’s bared, hard heat.

When Jim reached down to gather them together in his fist he was interrupted by the stroking of two fingertips along his shaft. Those devilish digits then slid over the wetness at his tip and trailed back down, smearing fluid all over his shaft before gently kneading a firm circle on one of his balls.

“Oh god, you’re teasing,” Jim growled, twitching as Spock’s fingertips danced back up to play around the crown of his glans.

 _{let’s see how you like this}_ Jim thought, and he spread his fingers into a _ta’al_ and ran them up and down Spock’s length, increasing the pressure as he pulled them up. On Jim’s ninth pass, Spock crushed Jim’s other hand against his own and let out a short cry, spilling over Jim’s fingers and cock. Just as Jim was about to pull away and jack himself off with Spock’s slick he was grasped with the perfect amount of pressure and pumped relentlessly, fast and hard, just the way he liked it. Jim’s mind fuzzed at the edges and images flooded his mind; Spock’s fingers spread to greet him, to bless him, and a sweet almost-smile that was for him, only ever for him. Spasms tore through his body and Jim buried his face into Spock’s neck, moaning with abandon as he came into his lover’s welcoming hand.

* * *

They had collapsed on the small upholstered bench that Scotty had installed in their quarters and Jim had thrown an arm carelessly over Spock's shoulders, reveling in the casual way that Spock had draped a leg over one of his own. Although Jim had used his tunic to clean them off, their pants were still gaping open and they were quite shamelessly exposed.

“I hope you know that I don’t mind you popping your joints,” Jim said, nuzzling into Spock’s shoulder. “It really doesn’t bother me, it just caught me off guard.”

“Jim, I have already explained that stretching of that nature does not warrant the term ‘popping.’ Under no circumstances will such actions produce explosive results.”

“I’m going to have to disagree with you there, mister. I’d call what just happened rather explosive, wouldn’t you?”

Jim smirked with satisfaction as he watched the tips of Spock’s pretty, pointed ears turn a bright and brilliant green.


	2. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More humor and sex!

It was late afternoon, ship’s time, and both Spock and Jim entered their quarters through the living-space door. With a nod to Jim, Spock went to his desk and pulled his console over, and after a brief stint in the head Jim took up residence at his desk. For a while there was complete quiet as both men did the more unglamorous part of their jobs -- the paperwork. For Spock there were duty rosters to review, as well as recent reports of an anomaly detected two light years away. Jim was brushing up on the history of the Nakaratians and their interest in becoming a member of the Federation.

Some time later, Spock clicked off his computer and removed his lute from its case. Jim smiled at him and opened the files Spock had just shared; he always looked forward to reading over what Spock had written. It was especially pleasurable to work in their quarters while Spock played the lute. Some of the more ancient Vulcan melodies in particular rang with emot-

~rtwan~

The hairs on Jim’s neck and forearms rose abruptly.

~hngq~

Jim’s left eye twitched.

~fnikkk~

Back when Jim went to school in Riverside, he’d passed by the junior high orchestra hall on many a morning, listening to the sixth graders as they warmed up. The noises that were coming from Spock’s lute now were similar to that in the sense that they were undoubtedly made by a stringed instrument, but in tonal quality they were more like a drunken Chekov warbling “The Star-Spangled Banner” into a tin can at the decibel of a whisper.

“Spock!”

Silence, blessed silence.

“Yes, what is it?” Spock asked. He turned his head to the left and plucked carefully at another string.

~plnnq~

“I-- what’s wrong with your lute?” Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off a headache.

“I do not perceive any problems with it. The strings have just been replaced and it is fully functional.” Spock lifted a hand to the string he had previously stroked.

“Whoa, hang on!” Jim exclaimed, raising both hands in the air. “I’ve never heard it sound quite like that!”

“Oh,” Spock said, “as with many Terran instruments, the strings require some ‘breaking in.’”

~brinqkl~

“Uh-huh.” Jim repressed another shudder as a delicate ~twanglyc~ sprang forth from the lute. “And how long does that take?”

“It takes around 12 standard hours for the new strings to produce the resonance that is characteristically associated with this instrument.”

“I see,” Jim replied, staring into space.

~frngh~

Jim jumped out of his seat and headed straight for the door.

“I’ll see you at the mess for dinner! I just forgot that I needed to see Scotty about the Nakaratians and their supply of dilithium. Heard they had questions about that, were wondering if they had enough for next winter.”

The door slid shut silently behind him, and Spock raised a single eyebrow. If he recalled correctly, the Nakaratians had plenty of dilithium.

~twang~

* * *

Spock was in the midst of placing his boots beside their closet when a soft _snip_ caught his attention. He turned to survey the room and saw Jim sitting at the edge of their bed with his left foot cradled in his lap.

_snip_

Curious, Spock approached his bondmate and bent his head to observe what he was doing to himself. Jim had a frown of concentration on his face and held a small silver instrument in his hand; close scrutiny revealed that it was a set of manual Terran nail clippers.

_snip_

“You are cutting your toenails.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Jim absentmindedly. He turned his foot to survey his work thus far.

“But you are not using the automatic buffer that is in the bathroom.”

“Mmm,” Jim grunted, clearly seeing no need to further comment on the situation.

“The clippers you are using do not contain an attached waste receptacle as do the ones in the bathroom.”

Spock ~~felt~~ thought that the logical choice was for Jim to use the far more efficient and hygienic mechanized set of grooming instruments provided to them by Starfleet. He tried to find some way to convey this to Jim.

“Your toenail clippings are falling onto the deck.”

_snip_

Jim squinted up at his husband.

“Ye-es?”

“If you are not intending to pick them up they will be there when the yeoman enters in the morning.”

Jim nodded firmly and resumed his careful review of his second toe. “Yeah, he’ll set the ru-vac up and it’ll do its thing.”

There was some essential element of this conversation that Jim was not ascertaining, thought Spock.

“Is it not more pragmatic to use grooming tools that automatically collect one’s cast-off bodily material, rather than having it freely strewn about one’s living area?”

Jim snorted and then grinned. “Spock, all you had to say was that you wanted me to pick them up. I’ll take care of ‘em in a minute.”

Spock had on occasion been accused by Jim of rolling his eyes, but he had carefully explained to him that this physical expression was not a result of the emotion of exasperation but merely an unconscious shifting of his Vulcan features that served as an indication of careful thought.

Once Spock was alone in the bathroom and certain that Jim could no longer see him, he rolled his eyes.

_snip_

* * *

“I think I’m going to break out those real tea leaves that Scotty picked up for us,” Jim said, pulling his gold tunic over his head and letting it slip carelessly to the floor. He smiled serenely over at Spock, who had taken a seat across the room from him.

Jim had just leaned over to tug off a boot when he saw Spock reaching for the case of his lute. He froze when he realized that it had only been two weeks since their conversation about the lute’s strings, and he couldn’t remember having seen Spock play more than twice in that time. On those occasions he had hastily beaten tracks from their quarters and gone once to the rec room, and once to Bones’ quarters. In the rec room he had had to listen to Sulu and Chekov bicker about whether it was Napoleon or Patton who had said, “know thyself, know thy enemy” (they were both wrong, it was Sun Tzu) and he had made Bones grin like a loon after repeatedly losing to him at blackjack.

But as unpleasant as both of those experiences had been, they were outmatched by the squeaking of his brain under the assault of Spock’s out-of-tune lute.

This time Jim knew he could escape to deck three, where they would be showing a classic film from the 21st century at 2100 hours. He hoped it wasn’t one of those godawful movies from that series with all the morphing robots and ludicrous explosions.

Spock, lute in hand (Jim needed to move more quickly now), bent over to open up the storage compartment of their bench and removed-

A pair of ear protectors. Jim gaped and held out his hands as Spock gave them to him. They were the kind used in engineering to block out highly-damaging sonic waves that could come from a warp engine in distress. Spock’s eyes gleamed as he backed away from Jim.

“I realize, Jim, that I was not aware of the impact that an untuned Vulcan lute could have on human ears. It is my hope that this can provide you with some comfort as I practice.”

Jim put the protectors on over his ears and smiled broadly at his husband.

“This is perfect, sweetheart, thank you,” he said, watching the corners of Spock’s eyes crinkle at the endearment. Jim had not heard a word of his own voice just now.

* * *

Hearing the water finally cut off, Spock raised his head from his console where he had been concentrating on the latest article from _The Interstellar Journal of Astrobiology._ Jim had started what eventually turned into a very lengthy shower as soon as alpha shift had ended, referring to some tightness in his muscles after spending most of the morning with Scotty in engineering.

The bathroom door opened and a nearly-nude Jim strode through it. Since they were now bondmates it was hardly unusual for one or both of them to go without certain articles of clothing, and even before they had become lovers Spock had frequently been treated to the sight of his captain in various states of undress. Jim had long since confessed that he had exhibited his body in an attempt to seduce Spock and Spock had similarly admitted that he had relished seeing Jim in such a state, and had even thought of arranging more opportunities to catch glimpses of his exposed body.

This time, Jim was wearing a white pair of boxer-briefs and had a towel draped around his neck, presumably to catch any stray droplets from his wet hair. It was not logical, Spock thought, but the clear beads of liquid seemed reluctant to yield to gravity’s pull; they caressed Jim’s chest with their slow downward trickle and left shiny trails over his skin.

_...a technological level close to the level of the civilization on Vulcan, consuming the energy of the order of 4 × 1019 ergs s−1; (II) – a civilization consuming...consuming..._

Somewhat distracted from his reading, Spock took in the rest of his bondmate’s appearance. The underwear Jim was wearing clung to him lovingly, but their opaque whiteness obscured the perfect curves of his buttocks and genitals.

Jim bent over at the waist and picked up the bin from under his desk that he had bought at Starbase Eleven. There had been a salesman there who had claimed to deal in Terran antiques, and Jim had been charmed by the design of two men on horseback engraved on the shiny metal container. Jim had speculated that it had been made in Victorian era, but when Spock had pointed out that the nearly non-existent silver content of the cylinder indicated a far later date of origin, the merchant had frowned and offered it at half price. Jim had been delighted, and when Spock asked him what he intended to do with a squat umbrella holder in their quarters Jim had just winked at him.

Still carrying the can, Jim rolled his chair away from its desk to the middle of the room and Spock realized that Jim was also holding his pair of Terran nail clippers in one hand. He nearly let out an unVulcan sigh of exasperation, but then Jim placed the can in front of the chair and sat down, spreading his legs far apart and bringing one foot up so that its heel rested on the seat cushion.

Not once glancing over at Spock, Jim proceeded to very neatly trim his toenails so that each clipping fell directly into the bin. Spock kept glancing back at his computer, but at each _snip_ he felt compelled to look over at Jim, at the apex of his thighs, at those beguiling shadows that played over his penis and testicles.

 _...generally speaking, any rotating neutron star, characterized by the slow down rate P ̇=dP/dt >0, where P is the rotation period, loses energy with the following power (called the slow- down luminosity, L _ _sd_ _) W ̇_ _Ω_ _= I|_ _Ω_ _|..._

Spock flicked off his console with a snap. He put his hands together and leaned forward, watching intently as Jim continued to groom himself.

“Well, that’s finished!” Jim exclaimed at last. He rose up from the chair and placed the clippers on his desk with a flourish, and with a wink at Spock he deftly gathered up his antique trash can and carried it over to their quarters’ waste receptacle, into which he tipped his toenail clippings. Jim placed the can on the floor and put his hands on his hips, smiling broadly.

“What can I say?” Jim asked. “You were right, and I thought it would be more sanitary this way.”

_[indeed]_

“Are you still grossed out?”

_[no longer]_

Jim eyed Spock carefully, taking in the posture of his hands, and he licked his lips slowly. Spock felt a tendril of inquisitive lust make its way over to him through their bond.

“I find it strange that you are wearing those undergarments.”

“Why is that strange, Spock?”

“Allow me to rephrase. It is strange that you are _still_ wearing them,” Spock said, and he pushed a psychic wave of his own desire over to Jim, whose knees trembled as it hit him. But to Spock’s surprise, Jim recovered quickly, gracefully dropping to his knees and crawling over to him.

“But I can tell that you like these shorts,” Jim said, placing a hot palm on each one of Spock’s thighs, lowering his head and looking up at him from beneath long, long lashes.

_[they are...imperfect]_

“How do you mean?” Jim murmured, rubbing his full, parted lips over and over Spock’s erection, making his hearts thump harder in his sides to quickly divert more blood to his erogenous zones. Jim shifted so that Spock could get a good view of him in his briefs. There was a sizeable fullness there straining against the cotton, and Spock knew that Jim’s tumescent penis would be flushed and just beginning to leak. But he couldn’t _see._

_[they conceal too much]_

“I’m not taking them off,” Jim said as he unzipped Spock’s pants and helped him shuffle out of his own underwear. “I like these boxers,” he continued, licking a stripe up Spock’s turgid member. “They're very…” Jim paused to kiss his slippery glans, “comfortable.”

_[and you are also speaking too much]_

_{and_ **_you_ ** _act like I still have to use my mouth to talk}_

Spock bucked involuntarily as Jim sank his mouth down onto him, taking him smoothly to the back of his throat with the expertise gained from their many practice sessions. The cavern of Jim’s mouth was perfect and so hot, but like the tease he had decided to be tonight, he rose off of Spock almost immediately and suckled at that tender spot just beneath the prepuce. Spock shuddered and Jim switched to running his flattened tongue up and down his length.

_[incorrigible]_

_{so make me behave}_

Jim’s taunts were too much to bear, and groaning helplessly, Spock pulled his head down and then up again.

_{fucking love it, need you to fuck my mouth, please don’t stop}_

Spock thrust up but tried not to be too rough, to never be too rough with his Jim.

_{yes you’re mine, too, love your cock in my mouth, warm and hard and smooth, you feel so good}_

Jim looked up at him worshipfully, his expressive eyes just beginning to swell with tears. Gasping, Spock forced himself to look farther down, to the obscene bulge in Jim’s shorts where a damp spot had formed.

_[I know what I want to see]_

Jim urged him toward his climax with an increasingly filthy telepathic monologue, but Spock fought to keep his mind silent, to not allow his thoughts to give too much away. He let himself get close, felt himself approaching the edge, and at the first tightening under his lower spine he looked down and put his fingertips precisely on all of Jim’s meld points. Jim let out a muffled shout and his body juddered uncontrollably in the same rhythm as Spock’s.

Intensely pleasant aftershocks went through both their bodies when Spock allowed the full measure of his satisfaction to creep through the bond, for Jim’s shorts, now that they had been soaked through by his ejaculate, were translucent and displayed his beautiful genitals to what Spock felt was their best possible advantage.

_{that was a dirty trick, Mr. Spock}_

_[I have, as they say, learned only from the best]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think about AOS Kirk grinding his hips while he’s in white boxer briefs. I think about this a *lot*. And about a tanned, oiled-up TOS Kirk with a towel around his neck staring at Spock with bedroom eyes.


	3. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional hurt/comfort, somewhat lengthy descriptions of Terran and Vulcan literature, and more explicit lovemaking.

Like the rest of the _Enterprise_ , their quarters were in disarray. The blasts from the two Romulan warbirds had shaken the ship to its core and the crew had counted themselves lucky to have escaped.

As soon as they were officially off-duty at 0300 hours, Spock had steered Jim to their bed and he had willingly collapsed there, still fully dressed. Within two minutes Jim’s breathing had slowed into the rhythm that told Spock he was approaching a deep sleep, and Spock quietly removed Jim’s boots and put them aside. When Jim turned over with a small noise and curled into a fetal position, Spock gently touched two fingers to his temple.

The bridge crew had been awake for nearly twenty-fours, overseeing the aftermath of the attack. Jim and Spock had personally surveyed all damaged areas of the ship, met multiple times with the crew about plans for temporary repairs and had written reports about the occurrence, collaborating with the rest of the command team to ensure that no essential detail had been omitted from the log.

Finally, they had visited sickbay and the morgue. The two of them had spoken with everyone who had sustained an injury in the line of duty, including the badly burned ensign from engineering who was still in a coma. And as they had done before and would undoubtedly do in the future, they paid tribute to the dead. After reviewing each of their names and bodies if recovered, Spock left Jim to stay with them for a short time. It was their right, Jim felt, to receive the captain’s gratitude and farewell in private. When Jim awoke in another six hours he would begin composing letters to their families.

Spock was not yet ready to join Jim in slumber and passed through the bathroom to the other side of their quarters. He required meditation, and after clearing away the debris around his desk - broken padds, a console now in need of repair, and several books from Jim’s shelf that had been launched across the room - he knelt in the space he had created and turned his mind inwards.

* * *

In the brief time since Jim had departed from the funerals to share a drink with McCoy, Spock had already made some progress in tidying their work area. He had discarded any irreparably damaged equipment, restored the chairs and table to their proper place and had put about half of Jim’s books back onto his shelf.

“It already looks better in here!” said Jim as the door slid open. “I hope you don’t think you’re expected to do all this on your own,” he continued, crouching to pick up some shards of a coffee cup that had shattered on the deck.

“Certainly not, Jim.”

“Thank you for getting started on this,” Jim said, smiling up at him, and Spock basked in the warmth he exuded.

“Oh!” Jim exclaimed. “You’ve already put some of my books up.”

“Yes,” said Spock,“I am arranging them chronologically, in the order in which they were written.” A small wrinkle appeared in Jim’s brow but was quickly smoothed away, and Spock felt a ripple slide out from underneath Jim’s mental shield.

“Very logical,” Jim said with a kind but detached smile. “I’ll go take care of the bedroom.”

* * *

It did not escape Spock’s notice that within two days Jim’s books had been rearranged in an illogical fashion. They were placed beside one another with little or no thought to their genre or date of origin. From left to right their titles were:

_Daily Roman Missal, Eleventh Edition_

_Beat to Quarters_

_The Odyssey_

_The Road_

_The Hobbit_

_Past Utopia Planitia_

_Paradise Lost, Paradise Regained_

The books were all in various states of repair. One, the missal, appeared to be very old but in excellent condition, its leather cover well-polished and supple. Spock was not surprised to open it and find the name _Tiberius Samuel Kirk_ handwritten on the endpaper. Other books had some minor tears or rips but had been carefully taped or glued together, and Spock was quietly amused to find that _Beat to Quarters_ had a faint, brown, Jim-sized thumbprint on its spine.

 _The Hobbit_ was especially worn, with many torn and creased pages, and Spock surmised that it had only held on so long because of its hard and fibrous exterior. He gently extracted it from the shelf and it opened automatically to a few passages. One of the pages near to the end caught Spock’s eye; it was rippled and dotted with numerous watermarks.

He also noted with some alarm that there was a faded reddish smear on the back cover.

Spock did not understand Jim’s motivation for undoing his work, but knew that there was some significance to Jim in how the books were placed in relationship to one another. It was of emotional import, too, realized Spock - the surge he had felt under their bond confirmed it. Perhaps, Spock thought, the explanation of Jim’s methods could be found in the books themselves.

* * *

All of Spock’s reading was fruitful, though he was far from what could be considered the intended audience for Jim’s book collection. Several of his books featured protagonists who exhibited many qualities that he had openly admired before. Spock had already been familiar with _Paradise Lost_ and would openly acknowledge Milton’s accomplishment in making the devil seem sympathetic.

Homer’s _Odyssey_ was still the most famous story about a journey in the history of Terran literature, and it was understandable that Jim, with his unfailing curiosity about the unknown, would find Odysseus’s adventures highly appealing.

Other books in Jim’s collections also told of travelers, including _The Hobbit_. It was quite sophisticated for a children’s novel, but Spock supposed that some of the elements, like the talking animals, the whimsical songs, and the riddles would capture the attention of young Terrans. It was even possible that such a novel would make for a good dramatic reading, and Jim had once talked about the simple pleasures in sitting around a campfire exchanging stories.

The last of Jim’s books that Spock read was Cormac McCarthy’s _The Road_.

After he finished reading, he waited until Jim was out of their quarters before picking up his paper copy and leafing tenderly through it. There weren’t many, but if one looked closely there were small, tell-tale watermarks on several different pages.

_I’d give that little boy half of my food. There is more in you of good than you know._

It was an illogical juxtaposition of titles, but Spock now understood why Jim had deliberately placed _The Hobbit_ and _The Road_ next to one another.

_I wash a dead man’s brains out of his hair. Where there’s life there’s hope._

A meld, especially for _t’hy’lara_ in a _telsu_ bond, allowed for a couple to have a completely shared consciousness. It could be an expression of self without words, where thoughts and feelings were instantly exchanged at will.

_Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it. May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks._

It was not an opportunity for a nonconsensual dissection of a person’s collected memories. To pull apart a person’s thoughts in such a way was a great crime. In the tradition of Spock’s people, even the _katra_ of a deceased individual was not to be examined without their prior permission.

_You forget what you want to remember, and you remember what you want to forget. So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings._

There were thoughts Jim had, that they both had, that were not for sharing. There were places in Jim’s mind where he had not invited Spock, where he never would.

_a colony which was disintegrating before my eyes_

Oh, Jim.

_S’ti th’laktra. I grieve with thee._

* * *

Jim looked about their quarters with a measure of satisfaction. All of the debris from the recent Romulan encounter had been cleared and almost all of their belongings put back in the proper place. The _Enterprise_ , too, was well on her way to being ready for their next foray into uncharted space.

Just as he was about to place Grandpa Tiberius’s missal on the shelf where it belonged, it slipped out of his hand and fell to the deck. It opened to one of Grandpa’s favorite illustrations, an elaborate Italian Renaissance scene of the crucifixion of Christ. Jim remembered Grandpa telling him about the parts of the picture; the thieves beside Christ, the weeping Mother of God, and the Roman soldiers.

His grandfather had always been devout in his own way. In spite of his agnosticism, which Jim shared, he had kept a special place for an antique crucifix on his wall, and he said it always helped him feel calm to pray the rosary. Tiberius had been a highly adventurous individual who was nevertheless devoted to kindness and justice, a good man, and one Jim was proud to have known.

As he looked at the painting, it occurred to Jim that the small, hovering two-dimensional angels somewhat resembled Spock’s fire guardian. They were not cherubic or even particularly attractive - they were in fact rather grim and homely - but the artist had nevertheless managed to characterize them as protective and benevolent.

But where was Spock’s fire guardian? In fact, thought Jim with some chagrin, where was Spock’s firepot and kneeler?

He hadn’t seen any of these pieces since they left Earth nearly two years ago, Jim realized, and he scowled to himself at his lack of observational ability. Those items had taken up a great amount of space in Spock’s previous quarters, but now they were nowhere to be seen. The bells from their bonding ceremony were hanging from the wall, along with a small tapestry showing the IDIC symbol, but none of the objects that Jim typically associated with Spock’s meditative practices had been incorporated into their shared quarters.

Jim frowned, wondering if Spock was satisfied with the area beside his desk that he used for meditation. He knew that Spock often sought contemplation while Jim was sleeping or away from their quarters, but was the lack of a more traditional setting hindering him?

It was critical that Spock feel at home in every way. Jim couldn’t retrieve all of Spock’s belongings at the moment, but he knew that even some small changes would make a huge difference. He decided to see Scotty about it as soon as he could, and he recalled that at their next shore leave there was a bustling market.

Their two year anniversary was coming up soon anyway.

* * *

Back in their quarters after an all-too-brief shore leave on Tau Ceti III, Jim ran his hand over the rich, velvety cloth. He had tested it a couple of times and was impressed by the muffling effects of the scarlet-colored curtain. Scotty and his minions had outdone themselves once again, and it occurred to Jim that he needed to ask some of the ensigns in engineering what Scotty was reading lately. Undoubtedly there were several prototype bits of technology described in his latest journals that Jim might find an excuse to procure for the _Enterprise_.

Speaking of excuses, Jim had taken pains to ensure that Spock’s presence had been requested by the laboratory immediately after their return to the ship so he could stow their bags and take a quick look at the changes to their quarters.

He smiled as he pulled the curtain aside again and looked at the plush, rolled up mat he had had beamed aboard propped against the newly installed niche. Jim had just placed his other small, secret purchase on the shelf inside the shallow recess when he heard the door open. He quickly backed away from Spock’s desk to find his husband staring at him with his eyebrows reaching toward the ceiling.

“Jim,” Spock said softly. He stood frozen beside the door, which whispered shut behind him.

Jim met him at the door and gently took him by the hand, pulling him over to his desk.

“Happy anniversary, Spock,” Jim said. He cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling somewhat shy in the face of Spock’s silence. “I know that you like to meditate by your desk when I’m sleeping or on duty, but I figured I could maybe make it comfortable for you to do it whenever you need to.”

Spock caressed the red soundproofed curtain that extended from the divider between their desks over to the wall. The curtain would now cordon off the space that Spock typically used for meditation when he rolled his chair out into their living space. Bending down, Spock picked up the new, cushioned mat from the lower half of the niche, and to Jim’s surprise, he rubbed its smooth surface against his face before replacing it.

Finally, Spock ran his fingertips over the lamp that Jim had found for him. It was simply designed, with only a few dancing curls carved onto its glossy ceramic surface. He picked it up and cradled it against his chest, closing his eyes.

“I know it’s not much,” Jim said, trying not to stammer. “Next time we’re in spacedock for a while longer I’d love to make a more dedicated place for you. This is technically our home, and I’m sure we have the sp-”

“ _Ashayam_ ,” Spock said, still not opening his eyes, and Jim gasped at the overwhelming love he felt pouring through their bond. Spock placed his lamp back on his new shelf and came to take Jim’s hands.

“I am...beyond grateful, Jim. You are a blessing beyond measure.”

Spock placed his own forehead to Jim’s and stroked his fingertips over his temples.

“I love you, Spock,” Jim said, and Spock pulled him into a tight embrace.

“And I thee, Jim,” said Spock in a low voice. He put his head against Jim’s neck and kissed him there before breaking away.

“I, too, have a gift for you,” said Spock, putting his hands behind his back. “But I cannot anticipate how you will respond to it.”

“I can’t imagine not liking it,” Jim replied, beaming at his lover.

“I read several of the books from your collection. I admit that I was curious about your preferences, and after contemplation on the matter, I realized that you might find some of Vulcan’s ancient literature interesting,” Spock said.

He strode over to the door where Jim had left their duffels, and pulled out a flat, wrapped package from an interior pocket. He held it out to Jim, who took it and opened it.

“You’ve gotten me a book!” Jim exclaimed with pleasure. It was beautiful, too, with a red leather cover and a gold scripted title that he recognized as Vulcan Golic. The title read _T’dah-Vah-Veh heh Kir-elep_ with a translation in Standard underneath it.

_Of-Two-as-One and the God of Peace_

Jim opened the book and saw that it was put together so the Golic writing was on the left-facing pages and its translation was on the right. The verses on the page he had turned to read:

_Clasping each other palm to palm,_

_Strylk and Stryr walked to the Tel-alep_

_At Mount Selaya to seek the words of the Watcher._

 

_And at the mountain Tel-alep did to the two warriors say,_

_Stryr, let Strylk go ahead of you;_

_He is of the wild lands, has the wild ways_

_And Strylk, let Stryr guide you_

_He knows the road to the Fire Plain._

 

_For the one who goes on ahead saves his friend._

_The one who knows the route protects his brother._

_And in this way each will know how to rescue his lover_

_Should the worst come to pass, should the end draw near._

 

_And saying to Strlyk, Stryr did say,_

_We must now travel a long way to find Ket-Cheleb,_

_I must face fighting such as I have not known,_

_But with you I shall not fear._

 

_And saying to Stryr, Strlyk did say,_

_I am glad that you shall show the way,_

_Without you I would not know how to go,_

_And with you I shall not fear._

“It is a story, thousands of years old, of two Vulcans who meet in the wilderness, Stryr and Strylk,” Spock said, stirring Jim from his reading. “Stryr was born of a noble family, while Strylk arose from the desert itself, his parentage unknown, and his only allies were the animals of the wastes. The legend states that it was a time of great turmoil, with the Gods of War and Death inciting endless conflict amongst the tribes.”

Jim was captivated and nodded vigorously, indicating that Spock should continue.

“Together Stryr and Strylk became warriors, and when they bonded as _t’hy’lara_ , they received a quest to awaken the God of Peace and embarked on a great journey. Once joined they were never parted, and they followed one another even through the Land of the Dead.”

With a faint blush on his cheeks and his eyes slightly downcast, Spock continued, “there are several parts of the epic that describe the pon farr between Stryr and Strylk in quite…poetic terms. But above all, the focus is on the enduring nature of their bond.”

Jim stroked his fingers over the lines he had just read, deeply moved by his bondmate’s gift. “Spock, this very nearly seems...well, for lack of a better word, romantic. I’ve never heard you mention that there was anything like this in your history,” Jim said.

“Before the wisdom of Surak, we were, as you know, entirely governed by our passions, and this is evident in the...extremism detailed here. This work is not well known among us, but it is carefully preserved as part of our culture.”

“Extremism?” It was mostly guesswork, but Jim would almost swear that Spock looked sheepish.

“The emotion of the work often subsumes the narrative - which can be quite illogical on its own.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here, Spock.”

Spock clasped his hands behind him and looked at the floor. Speaking very softly, he said, “the strength of a bond such as that shared by Stryr and Strlyk is highly revered among us for it exemplifies trust, an essential cornerstone in the foundation of a peaceful society.”

Jim smiled and laid down his new book, tears welling up in his eyes. He walked over and cupped one of Spock’s flushed cheeks, and thought what he could never say.

_{You know. Thank god you know, because I cannot tell you, I cannot, I cannot. Thank you. Thank you for never, never asking.}_

_[Ashaya, best beloved. I cherish thee.]_

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. I think that I...that my collection...needed this book. Has needed it for some time. And I would love to read it with you, _ashal-veh_.”

Spock rubbed his face against Jim’s palm, closing his eyes. “That would please me greatly, Jim,” Spock said, and Jim pulled him close. He traced one of Spock’s eyebrows and then caressed his temple with one finger. In response, Spock took Jim’s hand and placed it against his mouth. He pressed human kisses to the tips of his fingers and rubbed his slightly parted lips over the tender skin, causing Jim’s heart to race. Through Spock’s lowered shields, Jim sensed _desire_ and _want_ and _love_ , so he stroked over Spock’s plush mouth and dipped half of his index finger into its welcoming warmth.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Jim asked. Spock had a habit of expressing the sexual activities he himself would like by _performing them_ _on Jim_. It was intensely erotic, setting the stage for the lovers to echo each other’s needs and build upon them.

“Do you want to put your gorgeous fingers in my mouth, want me to suck on them?”

_[Please. Ashal-veh, please.]_

Jim removed his hand from Spock’s mouth and turned him around so that his back was to Jim’s chest.

“Going to make you feel so good,” Jim purred, and he gently pulled Spock’s right hand over his shoulder, placing those vulnerable fingertips directly to his own lips. Spock writhed and started panting, and Jim responded by pressing his rapidly hardening dick against his ass.

 _{Gonna make you come this way}_ Jim thought as he took Spock’s index finger into his mouth with a crude sound. He pulled the finger back out and licked over it, then circled his tongue around it several times, teasing Spock until his saliva had nearly dried. Jim finally pushed the rest of the digit back into his mouth leisurely, deliberately evoking the sense memory of a slow fuck, and Spock let out a low moan, tugging at his pants with one hand. Meeting him halfway, Jim helped him take out his dripping cock but batted his hand away from it. Instead, Jim curled his own palm around the verdant erection, cradling it without offering any friction, and sucked another one of Spock’s fingers into his mouth.

_[sanu, please, ashaya, bolau nash-veh]_

God, Jim _loved_ it when when Spock fell apart and his mind began projecting a steady stream of needy Golic.

 _{You know I won’t have to jerk you off at all, Spock, because you’re going to come from just your fingers in my mouth, aren’t you?}_ Jim thought, lightly running his tongue up and down the flat side of the two forefingers and alternating the smooth slides with hard, noisy slurps. He closed his lips around the base of those two fingers and then used his tongue to part them, gliding over the skin where they were connected.

_[I am...Nash-veh ak...Nash-veh…]_

_{So close, aren’t you, sweetheart? So fucking beautiful, so perfect. Want you to feel so good, so loved.}_

Spock was trembling in his arms and his chest had started to heave with rapid gasps. Jim felt his cock harden in his hand and stopped tormenting his lover, sealing his lips tightly around the two fingers in his mouth. He thrust them in and out to parallel the involuntary movements that his hips had started making.

 _{Come for me, Spock, let go}_ Jim coaxed, and he gave Spock’s fingers three exaggerated sucks. His lover’s cock jerked repeatedly as warm fluid flowed into his hand and Spock let out an impassioned moan, dropping his head onto Jim’s shoulder.  

“Ashaya,” Spock gasped. [ _Magnificent_ ] he continued mentally, projecting his emotional satisfaction. It was almost torture for Jim, who was now so hard that it hurt, and he let out a distraught whimper as he pressed his hand to his groin.

 _[No, no, no, Jim],_ Spock murmured silently, letting his pants fall from around his waist to the floor and stepping out of them easily. [ _I will care for you now, best_ _beloved],_ Spock thought. Jim moaned and nearly ripped his own pants and underwear in his fervor to get his dick out.

 _[You shall have all you need, k’diwa, trust that I shall give it to thee],_ Spock crooned, and he pressed his bared ass against Jim’s crotch.

“Fuck, oh, fuck,” Jim cried, digging his fingers into Spock’s hips. Spock shuffled his legs apart and Jim hazily realized that he was rubbing his hand between them.

 _[Place yourself between my legs, Jim._ _I would have you use my seed for thy relief.]_

This was it, Jim thought. He was going to have a brain aneurysm and die before he could start fucking Spock’s thighs - thighs that Spock had just coated with his _own come_.

But somehow he did manage to survive long enough to push into the slick channel that Spock had made for him, and it was so perfect, so warm, wet, and tight that he sobbed in relief. Spock squeezed around him purposefully.

 _[Take thy pleasure, adun],_ urged Spock, and Jim obeyed at once, pumping with all his might. Jim’s orgasm was barreling down on him hard now; there would be no need for him to chase it, to work for it. He could feel himself slide underneath the slight bulge of Spock’s testicles, could feel the gentle prickle of Spock’s hairs on the exquisitely sensitive tip of his dick, and it was so good, so good…

“There now, _a_ _shaya_. Now, Jim!”

“Oh, fuck, _t’hy’la, t’hy’la_!” Jim moaned brokenly, and his cock pulsed out its own release to mingle with Spock’s. Jim’s head dropped down to rest against Spock’s shoulder blades and he aimlessly patted his lover’s chest.

“We got you all messy,” Jim mumbled. Spock let out a small, short hum, and Jim just _knew_ it was the Vulcan equivalent of a snort.

“I cannot bring myself to experience the emotion of regret at the present time,” Spock said, taking one of Jim’s hands and pressing it to his side, over one of his hearts.

Jim smiled, making sure that Spock could feel it on his skin.

“No, no regrets here. Never, Spock,” Jim said, pulling away and turning to face him. “No matter what may happen to us,” Jim continued, “I have you.”

Spock rested his forehead against Jim’s again. “Yes, you have me, _t’hy’la_. And with you--”

“--I shall not fear,” said Jim.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations, courtesy of The Vulcan Language Dictionary:
> 
> sanu = please  
> bolau Nash-veh = I need  
> Nash-veh ak = I shall  
> k’diwa = beloved  
> adun = husband
> 
> I am alluding to Kirk’s experiences on Tarsus IV, referenced in TOS episode “The Conscience of the King.” 
> 
> The Vulcan poetry is loosely based on lines from The Epic of Gilgamesh and also inspired by works from both aldora89 and Gayle F. I highly recommend reading everything by these two writers, and the explicit TOS Spirk art by Gayle F is the stuff of legends. For your enjoyment: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Gayle_F


	4. Greater Than the Sum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romantic and extremely explicit lovemaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pleased to see that we have differences. May we together become greater than the sum of both of us.  
> -Surak

Spock was not in the habit of using analogies, but as he slid his hands over Jim’s smooth, golden chest, he thought to himself that his bondmate’s bared body was like a banquet, spread out for him and ready to devour.

In their quarters there was no sound save for the humming of the ship’s engines and Jim’s heavy breathing. The _Enterprise_ was cruising safely within Federation space with a team of scientists on their way to the Muratas Star Cluster, and earlier, as ship’s night had drawn near, Jim and Spock’s thoughts had increasingly turned to ways they could spend their time during such a peaceful part of their journey. Spock had first become aware that Jim was thinking of conjugal matters when he felt the bond between them grow muffled. As Jim had learned how to manage the flow of his consciousness, he had quickly determined that for their mutual maximum efficiency on the job he needed to keep his fantasizing to himself. Ironically, though, Spock had now come to associate this specific adjustment in their bond with Jim’s arousal, and he had to act fast to repress his own stirring lusts.

They had dimmed the lights to twenty percent and Jim had turned up the temperature of the room by a few degrees as soon as they walked in. More than ready for the touch of skin on skin, they had quickly removed their clothes and pressed their bodies together, caressing one another with eager mouths and hands. Spock had bodily placed Jim on the bed beneath him and Jim had reacted with complete surrender, sighing and spreading his limbs, readying himself for anything Spock might desire.

Now Spock was letting his palms glide their way up Jim’s neck to cup his hands around his cheeks. Jim tilted his chin up to signal that he wanted kisses, and Spock obliged him, pressing  closed lips to Jim’s sweet, rosy mouth, to the slightly upturned corners of them that indicated he was almost smiling. Spock let his kisses linger and then stilled, his lips just resting over his bondmate’s, testing his control. He was unsurprised but immensely gratified when Jim immediately slid his tongue out to flutter against Spock’s lips, and he opened for Jim, allowing him to plunder his mouth. And when Spock licked his way back into Jim’s mouth, he arched his back and let out a broken moan.

By this time they were both fully aroused and pressing their erections against each other, and the hum of their prurient thoughts was growing louder. Backing away, Spock spread his fingers apart and trailed lazy lines down Jim’s chest. At first he playfully avoided his sensitive nipples and focused only on his ribs, but once Spock’s hands reached Jim’s groin and he started bucking his hips, Spock doubled back to rub and then pinch those tender nubs.

“Ah, Spock!” Jim cried, writhing.  

_{oh, yes!}_

_[you are beautiful like this, t’hy’la, so vulnerable for me]_

Spock bent his head, and when he took one of Jim’s flushed nipples into his mouth and nibbled at it, Jim howled his pleasure and gripped Spock by his hair.

_{so good so goodgoodgood}_

Spock gave the other nipple the same treatment then pulled away, rubbing soothing circles onto Jim’s tense pectorals.

“Jim, I wish...I wish to fellate you now.”

Though it was still difficult for Spock to voice his intentions aloud, he knew the effect it had on Jim. Even in the dim lighting, Spock could see Jim’s pupils expand further outwards.

“Oh, hell yeah, Spock, I’ll never say no to that,” Jim moaned, running a careless _ozh’esta_ over Spock’s hand.

_{yesyesyes suck my cock yes}_

With the exception of the hot wax dripped on his hirsute body, Spock had enjoyed all the sexual activities they had tried, and fellating Jim gave Spock the opportunity to experience him through taste. Jim was savory, briny and bitter all at once, and every time Spock took him into his mouth his flavor was subtly different from the previous time. Spock couldn’t refrain from briefly stimulating his own erection in anticipation, but with an effort he removed his hand and turned his attention solely to his lover.

_[Your pleasure is my pleasure, Jim.]_

* * *

Jim could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears as Spock began to make his way to his demanding cock. First Spock pressed a soft kiss to his chin and swept his lips down Jim’s sternum, stopping along the way to nip at his belly until Jim was gasping. To Jim’s great relief he finally carried on, following the path of Jim’s faint treasure trail until he reached his groin, where he nuzzled at the nest of crisp hairs there. Jim trembled as Spock mouthed over the sensitive skin at the crease of his thighs and he impatiently jerked his hips forward.

_{pleaseplease}_

When Spock began pressing full, lingering kisses to his shaft, Jim let out a shout and just barely stopped himself from fisting a hand in his lover’s hair. He fought the desperate urge to grab Spock’s head, to fuck into that willing mouth until he let go down his throat, but there was so much more that Jim hoped for tonight.

_{gonna have to hold me down this time, I can’t-}_

A sudden iron grip on his hips pinned Jim to the bed but instead of fighting against that superhuman strength he went lax, offering himself up to whatever pleasures Spock might grant him. Jim shivered as warm, humid air engulfed his balls, and whimpered when he felt a tongue-tip greet the weeping slit of his glans. Spock began lapping slowly at him, starting from the base and making his way to the top, concluding each lick with a velvety kiss. After Jim had endured this about a dozen times his toes had curled up and his legs were shaking.

“Spock…Spock, I need, baby…”

_[you are doing so well, Jim]_

_{it’s torture, I_ **_need..._ ** _}_

“Please, baby!”

In the midst of Jim’s pleading, Spock’s mouth sunk slowly down onto him, surrounding him with slick heat.

“God!” cried Jim, and though instinct pressed him to thrust into that welcoming wetness, he remained immobile under the force of Spock’s hands. That luscious mouth retreated to suckle at the spongy crown of his cock, and the helplessness of Jim’s situation ratcheted his arousal up by a factor of at least five.

_{so fucking good I love it}_

“All of it, soon, please?” begged Jim, running his fingers through Spock’s fine hair.

_[soon, ashayam, you know I will]_

And Spock kept up that gentle pressure until Jim’s hands dropped away from his head and the only motion of his body came from the rise and fall of his chest. He floated in and out of time and space and his entire awareness had dwindled to that small, sucking circle around the tenderest tip of him.

_{wantwantwant}_

Jim’s eyes jerked open and his head rose off the bed when Spock enveloped his cock completely.

“Oh, shit, oh shit,” Jim moaned, and his legs fell open. He couldn’t do anything but lie there and take it, take the delicious mercy that Spock’s mouth was doling out to him, and he loved it. There was nothing but the in-and-out slide of his dick, the pressure building in his balls, and a sparking at the bottom of his spine...

_{not yet, not yet!}_

“Stop, my god, Spock, stop!” he cried out.

Spock pulled away from him at once and Jim dug his fingers into the sheets, determined to hang on, to not let this end too quickly.

“That was close,” Jim panted, and he grinned up at his lover. Spock was an absolute mess; his hair was askew, his cheeks were green, and his stiffened cock was jutting out proudly from his body.

“Yes. However, I could feel how much you enjoyed it,” said Spock, and Jim knew he had absolutely zero regrets about nearly bringing him to climax. Feeling slightly more in command of his body now, Jim took Spock’s hand and slowly caressed his fingertips.

 _"T’hy’la_ ,” Jim said tenderly, “I want you to fuck me tonight. Is that alright?”

_[Jim, Jim, yes, yes, yes!]_

Spock nodded and the olive flush on his cheeks spread to the very tips of his ears.

“Mmm...use that expensive stuff we picked up on Argelius,” Jim said, and as Spock walked over to retrieve their oil, Jim admired his taut, perfect ass and tugged on his cock. Once Spock returned, Jim bent his knees and spread his thighs without prompting.

“C’mere mister, get your fingers in me.”  
  
" _Jim_." 

Spock sounded like all of the air had just been punched out of his chest, and a warm glow lit up in Jim’s stomach.

“It’s alright, baby, I’ll help,” Jim said, placing a comforting hand on Spock’s forearm. As mindblowingly hot as it was for Spock to get off while fingering him, Jim knew that if they wanted this to last they’d both need to be careful. “Sorry, but I’m greedy for it tonight,” Jim said, smirking.

_[it is alright, ashal-veh. I will...endeavor to remain calm]_

Jim a deep breath and bore down as one slick finger entered him, doing his level best not to clench around it, trying to relax against the odd yet pleasurable sensations. The lube was so creamy and luxurious that Jim barely felt it when Spock added another finger, and he started arching his back. God, but Spock always did such a good job of working him open, finding just the right way to coax and seduce his muscles, and it wasn't long at all before he was taking three of those long fingers with ease, but he needed that spot to be touched just so, needed it rubbed and pressed so badly...

_[here, Jim?]_

“Ah!” he cried, and that was it, Spock’s fingertips had landed right on it, and he rolled his hips to get that feeling again and again and again.

_{moremoremore}_

Jim forgot all about his resolve to help Spock maintain his self-control.

“God, yeah, that’s good, it’s so fucking good…”

_[to hear your pleasure is sublime, Ashaya]_

“Inside now, Spock!”

_[YES]_

Jim remained still just long enough for Spock to withdraw his fingers, then he promptly rolled onto his hands and knees.

“Like this, fuck me like this, at least to start with,” Jim urged, and he shivered as he heard Spock shuffle up behind him. Time seemed to slow when he felt cool fingers squeezing his ass, and he tilted his hips up as Spock parted his cheeks. His face burned as he thought of what a sight he must make like this; exposed, obscene, spread and readied for his mate.

_[you are indescribable, t’hy’la mine, my beautiful telsu. All mine.]_

_{now, all the way!}_ and Jim pressed his head and elbows to the bed as Spock entered him in one long thrust, bottoming out. Nearly overwhelmed but loving it, Jim clutched his own hair and whined, and Spock waited for him, digging his fingers into his hips. When Jim nodded, Spock withdrew part of the way and pushed in shallowly, seeking--

“Oh, yeah!” Jim screamed, and from that point forward he was more than willing for Spock to proceed at his own pace as long as he kept zeroing in on his prostate, kept screwing him into oblivion.

_[you. take. it. so. well. Jim.]_

Jim could tell that Spock was falling apart because words weren’t the only things being transmitted through their bond anymore. Jim could _see_ what Spock saw - the sheen of sweat on Jim’s back; could _taste_ what Spock tasted - the salt of his skin where Spock licked it from his neck; and Jim suddenly knew, knew _exactly_ how he wanted this to end. They couldn’t always get it just right but he wanted to damn well try, wanted to see if he and Spock could lose their fucking minds together.

_{over, over}_

Jim pulled away from his lover quickly and flipped on his back, wincing at the sudden withdrawal, but he felt that they could do this, that it would work. As soon as he hit the mattress, he caught sight of Spock’s face and knew from the feral look in his eye that he understood.

“I’ll tell you when, baby,” Jim said, clasping his face in both hands, and Spock nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Jim’s eyes for him.

 _[Ashayam,_ **_yes_** _]_

“Love you,” Jim gasped as Spock pushed his way back inside. He gave Jim very little time to adjust before he began reaming him, angling his thrusts upward this time, hard and fast.

“I love thee,” Spock moaned, and Jim’s cock twitched at the sound of his wrecked voice. Taking himself in hand, Jim started jerking off rapidly, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, to watch the subtle shifts in Spock’s features. The creases that sprung up between his brows, the widening of his eyes, and the quivering of his lips, this was all for Jim, just for him, and he would never, never share.

_[only for you]_

As Spock’s hips started to stutter and he plunged even deeper into Jim, he felt a cool wave start to build in his legs _{soon, soon}_ and he kept stroking himself, waiting for Spock’s eyes to slam shut, for his breath to hitch, for his fingers to start fumbling their way to his temple.

“Almost,” Jim choked out, and the rolling tide inside him grew hot, rushing toward his pelvis. Spock gave a small cry and pressed a trembling hand to Jim’s face, thrusting arrhythmically. 

_{_ **_now_ ** _}_

“My thoug-”

The rest of Spock’s words were drowned out by Jim’s cries as he came, and the contractions of _Jim’s_ internal muscles became _Spock’s_ , and as _Spock_ fucked out his orgasm it was given to _Jim_. Pleasure reverberated between them, and though their ecstasy was doubled, their minds were one.

_[{[{never and always touching and touched}]}]_

* * *

Jim stretched out languidly on their bed, hot, sweaty, covered in come and loving it. As Spock came back from the bathroom with several towels, Jim trailed a single finger through the mess on his chest and casually popped it into his mouth.

_[I...will remember this moment for later, Jim.]_

“Promise?” Jim said, and winked up at him. Feeling thoroughly spoiled and rather sleepy, he sighed with contentment while Spock cleaned his chest and the slightly sore place between his legs. He used two fingers to pet over any part of Spock that he could reach, and was deeply gratified to see a small smile cross his husband’s face.

_{you’re so happy, baby}_

“No, Jim, I am satisfied. Satisfaction is a state of being that indicates that one’s needs have been met. To attribute emotion to such a physical condition is illogical.”

“Why, Mr. Spock, how romantic! What a stunning compliment you’ve just given me on satisfying your physical needs!”

Spock raised an eyebrow and Jim felt amusement flicker through their bond. But then Spock’s face reassumed its usual solemnity and he leaned over and caressed Jim’s face with a _ta’al_.

“You do not satisfy, Jim. You are _k’hat’n’dlawa_ , half of my heart and soul. To me you are life itself.”

“Come here, _k’diwa_ , come _here_ and don't get up again,” Jim said, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around Spock like a cephalopod.

“Jim…”

“Don’t care, I love you. Just fix it later,” Jim said blearily, just before he yawned and closed his eyes.

And taking his bondmate at his word, Spock wrapped them up in one of the two blankets that he used to keep his own 34 degree Celsius body comfortable at night. Once a thoroughly overheated and perspiring Jim had lapsed into unconsciousness, Spock would untangle him and cover him in his lone, whisper-thin cotton sheet.

He would make sure, though, that two of Jim’s fingers remained free of his sheet so they could connect with the _ozh’esta_ that Spock would extend to him.

That way they could feel one another even as they slept, just as they had done since their first night together.

**Author's Note:**

> The moral of this story is that everyone has their funny little ways in regards to toilet paper roll arrangement, the expression of bodily functions, and obsessively kept collections of bric-a-brac. A good line of communication and a heaping helping of patience really are the keys to getting along in your shared spaces, no matter what your planet of origin might be.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
